I had a successful opening day of bow season. After changing
stands a couple of times during the day I set up in the stand I had determined
would be the best one for the evening hunt. The stand was a lock-on stand
placed roughly 25 feet up the tree and only accessible by the climbing sticks
attached to the trunk. The first limbs were just a few feet above my head
allowing for a place to hang my bow and quiver along with the small pack I use
when hunting from a stand.
Right at sunset, between five minutes prior to five minutes
after I spotted the first deer I had seen all day. She exited the tree line of the
swamp within a few feet of where I thought she would. She entered the natural
clover opening and turned to her left. I noticed a slight limp in her stride. I
had my bow in hand but did not risk notice of any movement until I could
determine exactly where she was headed. She had a steady walk, somewhere
between “I know exactly where I am going” to “I wonder where everybody is.”
Since she was going from my left to right and I knew she would go by my stand I
waited to draw when the tree I was in was between the two of us. Her pace was
quick enough I did not have to hold the 70 pound pull of the Ben Pearson
Stealth II but a few seconds before she was in a clear line of sight. I
previously marked yardages with the rangefinder and decided if she did not slow
down I would take the shot at the 20 yard mark while she moved.
As the thought was processed through my mind she hung a
quick right, still passing by the stand. I made a small grunt and she paused,
her front left foot still dangling in the air as she didn’t finish her step. I
dropped the 10 yard pin from the Spot Hogg sight onto her middle right
shoulder. Thwack.
Thirty minutes later I climbed down the stand and started
the tracking. My two nephews helped in the process and it was not long before
we found her some 50 yards in the swamp.
To say hunters have no heart or soul is a major
misunderstanding. Upon finding her we noticed her left side was devoid of hair
on about 25 percent of her body. While one nephew wondered if she may have had something
like mange or some other disease, I recognized she had likely been hit by a car
within the last couple of months. What she had was road rash. Her limp was also
a result of the collision.
One thinks of the hard life she must have had. She was old
enough where she had given birth before but there were no signs of fawns with
her at this point. She was likely a 2 or 3 year old doe. And here I was the one
that had ended her life.
I also understand as a hunter that in ending her life I have
given her purpose. If she would not have survived the car collision she would
have been left for flies and maggots and vultures. Instead she now provides
food for a greater good. Instead of perishing from disease, starvation, or
coyote attack because of her lack of mobility, she was laid down quickly and
ethically.
Yes, we hunters do understand the cycle of life and death
and predator and prey.
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